


The Debt I

by queenseamoose



Series: Star-Blessed [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Gen, Pre-Morrowind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valen knows just how to guilt Mina into giving him what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Debt I

“It’s only fifty septims.” His eyes have narrowed to crimson slits, and the knuckles of the hand curled around his mug have paled.

“ _Only_ fifty?” She doesn’t even need to fake the incredulous laughter that hisses out along with the words as she stares across the table at her brother. “Valen, that’s half my savings.”

“So?” He raises an eyebrow. “You can always make more, can’t you?”

She pauses. “Well no, actually.” She straightens up in her chair, suddenly feeling a flutter of nerves. She’s neglected to tell him the news in anticipation of his reaction, but there seems no way around it now. “Not for a while. I took a job in Chorrol.”

Valen doesn’t move, his expression flat and unreadable as he watches her. “A job that doesn’t pay?” he asks evenly, and her anxiety is immediately replaced with a rush of annoyance.

“Of course not,” she snaps, even as she heaves an inward groan. This has been a mistake. “I’ll get paid when the job’s done. It’s standard.”

“Standard, eh?” Valen grumbles, leaning back in his chair. “Standard for _what_ , if I may ask?”

“I’m…working for a farmer.” Oh, she should have never brought this up in the first place. “He’s got a goblin problem. I’m keeping the fields clear for the summer.”

For a moment, Valen falls silent, staring shrewdly across the table at her. Then he throws back his head and laughs, shaking with hearty guffaws. “A _mercenary_?” he chokes out. “You truly think you can head out there and become a sword for hire? Just like that?” And he falls back into laughter.

“It’s not funny!” she barks, blood rising as she pushes back her chair. Her temples are beginning to throb, and she fights the urge to pick up her own mug and pitch it straight at his head. Maybe that’d wipe the smirk off his face.

“Sit down.” How quickly his laughter vanishes, she notes dryly, and her rage burns just a little hotter. But she obeys anyhow, dropping back into her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. She can listen. She’ll give him five minutes, and then walk away. Simple as that.

“Mina, mercenaries are professional warriors.”

She sighs, counting down the seconds in her head.

“You think you've got what it takes just because you can survive a few local brawls? Think again. Little girls who don't know their place get eaten alive. You wouldn't last a minute against a seasoned fighter.”

She rubs her temples, unable to hold her tongue any longer. “Is that some sort of threat, Valen?” she asks tiredly.

“It's a warning.” Then why does he look so pleased with himself? “You have a job already. A job you get paid for at that. Stick to what you're good at, Mina. You'll thank me later.”

“Thank you for _what_ , exactly?” Her temper is rising again, and despite the quiet warning in the back of her mind, she can't seem to rein it in. “Keeping me here in the city and wasting my skills? Supporting you while you gamble away every cent you make? The answer is _no_ , Valen. I'm not giving you the damn money!”

“Would I ask if it wasn’t important?” he yells back, equally furious now. “You're so _selfish_ , you ungrateful little brat! I should have never come back here. I had a job lined up in Hammerfell, you know. I would have been set for life!” His mouth curls into a vicious sneer. “Instead, I got stuck with _you_. Taking whatever work I could find to keep you fed and a roof over your head. Turning down countless better offers. I got sent to _prison_ because Areldil pinned a job on me when he found out I had a kid to support. A _liability,_ he said. And all of that means _nothing_ to you!” His fist pounds against the table, punctuating his words. “You won't even help me when I need it most. When I come _begging_ to you. You'd just as soon see me tossed into a gutter with my throat slit.”

She grits her teeth together, curling her hands into a fists as she rises to her feet. “Valen,” she begins, “that is _not fair_.”

“No?” He settles back in his chair, glowering darkly at her. “But it is true. And you know it.”

With a blast of white-hot fury, she snaps. A sweep of her arm sends the contents of the table tumbling to the floor. A mug shatters, a plate goes rolling toward the hearth where it spins frantically on its edge before settling flat. And through it all, Valen only watches her.

She can't stand to look at him another second. Turning on her heel, she stomps over to the battered dresser that holds her meager belongings and throws it open, rooting through its contents until she finds what she's looking for—and she pitches the leather pouch straight at his face.

He doesn't even wince as it whizzes past his head and bursts open against the wall. A shower of coins pours out, bouncing off the furniture and rolling to every corner of the room. It's the entirety of her savings—all she has to show for months and months of back-breaking work. All she has to show for twenty years of life, scattered across the floor.

“Take it,” she says, suddenly feeling sick. “Take it all. I don't even care anymore.”

And then she storms out of the house, the shudder of the timbers as she slams the door the only argument she has left to make.


End file.
